Scandal // h.s au

eighteen: "I was hers."

He had her hand in his, attempting to keep her trembling figure warm, as his free hand knocked on the rather luxurious door. A woman in a maid uniform opened the door, and he felt the need to let her hand go, so he reluctantly did.

" Is Mr. Morrison present?" Harry spoke formally, confidently, never missing a beat.

" Who's here for him?"

" Inform him that this is concerning his daughter."

" Sorry, Mr. Morrison doesn't do interviews or -"

" This isn't for an interview."

" Then the matter of his daughter remains unspoken of until the results of the investigation are back and -"

" They won't come back unless he talks to us. Trust me, this is for his own good."

" I'm sorry but these are Mr. Morriso -"

" Let them in, Anita." They heard an old, shaky but still contained voice calling, before the maid released a sigh, opening the door and finally letting them in.

" Stay close." Harry whispered into her ears, receiving a curt nod from her, as he guided them both into the house, making sure to take sizeable steps to keep the space between them minimal. The maid led them into a large living room, with a piano in the corner, a fireplace in front of which an old man sat, leaned on his cane. Harry casted a weary glance at Aimee, before approaching the man, pulling his hand out.

" Good evening, sir, I'm -"

" Harry Styles. I know who you are."

" And this is my colleague; Aimee Montgomery." The man then moved his eyes from the fireplace, to scan both their young faces, before he weakly shook their hands. It caught her slightly off guard; how his eyes were the exact same shade as her father's. She had managed not to think of her parents for the longest time, but now, with the living, breathing, reminder of what she had pictured her father to grow into, she couldn't possibly stop her mind from picturing all the things they'd forced her into missing out on.

She noticed that Harry sat himself down, and was staring at her with questioning eyes. She quickly sat down next to him, fixing her skirt, the coldness now stronger than ever.

" This will not be recorded, so feel free to say whatever you would like, because any piece of information could help us solve this." Harry spoke, to which the man weakly nodded.

" When was the last time you saw your daughter?"

" I saw the news spreading about trouble at home, and - I gave her a call. She didn't sound like herself, but she told me that they were just rumors and that - that Ian and her were as great as ever. Ian had kept her mother and I away, not directly, but I think he didn't appreciate our past of homelessness and struggle. And she was always too busy to come see us, until her mother passed, and it was just me. She didn't ask me to come live with them, and I didn't expect her to. But her mother's death weakened me, in each and every way. You never properly get through something like losing the love of your life." A sigh involuntarily fell past Aimee's lips, as her sight began to blur with the stubborn tears due to the aching familiarity of it all. Harry barely looked at her at all, before refocusing his attention on the man.

" That didn't answer my question, sir."

" If you don't rush me, I'll get to the point soon enough." The man scolded, causing the slightest of all smiles to grace Aimee's lips.

" Sorry, carry on then." Harry said, with a smile of his own.

" She came to see me the day befo - before her passing. There was something about her; I couldn't explain it to you if I tried, but it was like her mother was standing right in front of me. She had her aura, her energy. And I knew that I was about to lose her too." The man wiped at his eyes, shaking his head slightly.